


Bedroom Noise

by vtn



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Daft Punk Slash, Human Daft Punk, M/M, Teenage Daft Punk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignette chronicling the early days of Daft Punk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedroom Noise

Do you ever get that feeling? You know the one. You see someone and there's just something that makes you think, you know—we could really have something in common. Or at least that you'd really like to.

The thing about growing up "a little bit" queer is that it's really hard to figure out when you really like someone, or you really admire him, or you really want to kiss him. The nice thing about boys though—especially boys like Guy-Manuel—is that unlike girls they don't tend to ask for definitions or ultimatums. We just kind of do things because we like them.

And that's how it was with us from the beginning—fumbling for kisses in the dark to "see what it's like" and realizing we weren't fooling anyone, making music that sounded, in just the smallest ways, like nothing anyone had ever heard before. We had a brief attempt at playing rock 'n' roll until we realized it was truly shit awful and that, moreover, there was more than one way to go about it.

It came out of my room, the way a lot of ideas do. When you forget to clean the corners of a room, sometimes things start growing in there. Some of them end up being bigger than you think they're going to be. Some of them end up being bigger than you. Sometimes you fool around with records and synthesizers one moment and play to adoring crowds the next.

Some of them end up being small, small enough to fit into your pocket and into the ever shrinking space between the two of you. I don't remember ever actually saying it out loud, actually admitting we'd been in denial. What I remember is the way we could scarily read each other's minds and figure out whether it would be music or sex that afternoon. What I remember is having something no one else had—my face between his neck and his shoulder. What I remember is having my hand in his hair, holding on tight and wondering whether at some point we were both going to fall off the face of the earth. Maybe that just made it all the better.

We both got that feeling, the day we met. I don't have to ask him because I know. We were the best friends in every movie. We looked at each other and saw someone we could share ourselves with.

I feel like I've gone through this whole thing not really knowing what I'm doing. Very little in this life of mine is certain. I hold onto every moment until my body strains; I hold onto him on into the morning and at least we know one thing's for sure.

AMS  
November 26, 2008


End file.
